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We carefully laid Sam's unconscious form in the panic room, his body resting motionless on the cot in the centre of the room. From the doorway, I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath, a soft rhythm. Seeing Sam like this was gut-wrenching. Dean was beside himself, his worry consuming him as he hovered over his brother, panic etched on his face.
I think Dean finally felt the weight of someone watching him. His head snapped toward the panic room door, and our eyes locked. He quickly moved around the cot and towards the door. I turned, stepping back to give him space as he came out, keeping just a few inches away from his brother, cautious but not wanting to stray too far.
"And?" Dean's voice was sharp, and impatient, as he stepped toward me. The weight of hours spent pacing, hoping for any sign of progress, was clear in the tightness of his posture.
After we'd laid Sam down mere hours ago, Dean had sent me to look for a spell, desperate for anything that might help heal his brother, anything that could pull him out of his shattered mind that Cas had pushed him into.
I sighed, the words slipping out of my mouth heavy with regret. "Sorry, Dean." The frustration on his face was immediate, his shoulders sagging as his hand ran down his face in disbelief. I watched as the hope in his eyes shattered, the weight of it all crashing down on him.
"There has to be something," Dean snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. The tension in the room was thick, the weight of his worry for Sam pressing down on both of us. He paced in tight circles, in front of me. "Can't you just heal him?" His eyes locked onto mine, pleading but edged with anger, as if I hadn't already spent hours combing through the pages of my Grimoire—searching for anything, any spell, any answer.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep the calm in my voice, though the frustration simmering just below the surface was hard to ignore. "Dean, I have no idea what's going on inside of his head," I said, my words firm, yet empathetic. "Cas shattered that wall; it's not something I can just undo with a spell or a wave of my hand." I looked away for a moment, unable to meet his gaze, the weight of the situation settling deeper into my bones.
I met his eyes again, my voice low but unwavering. "I don't have any idea where to start in a complex situation like this. Anything I could do could make it worse. I'm not about to risk damaging his mind even more." The seriousness in my tone was as sharp as the fear running through me. I knew Dean was desperate, but I was walking a fine line. One wrong move and Sam might be lost to us forever.
Dean's jaw tightened as he absorbed my words. I could see the internal struggle, the frustration rising up in him like a tidal wave, crashing against the walls of his usual stoic demeanour. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving mine, searching for any sign of hope, any hint that I could fix this.
"I don't care what it takes," he muttered under his breath, almost as if he were convincing himself more than me. "We can't lose him, Abby. I don't know what I'll do without him." His voice cracked just slightly, betraying the raw emotion he was trying so hard to bury.
